


All the Ways I Love You

by nelliecrain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, to be tagged
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-16 02:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14803065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelliecrain/pseuds/nelliecrain
Summary: A collection of HanLando drabbles





	1. ' baby ' 1/2

the closet was one of, if not the, most complicated part of the falcon. upon stepping into the room at first accompanied by qi’ra, he was silently amazed at just the myriad of colors that swallowed them and surrounded them, immersing the two ex-streetrats in a rainbow of fabrics and tones they’d never had the luxury of existing around before.

it was new, and scary, and enthralling all at once.

the second time he’d entered the vortex of perfectly tailored capes, silky fabrics and striking spectrums, it’d been alone. only him and the brightness that captured every inch of his attention span. 

and it could have been overwhelming, but it  _wasn’t_. even though his being was captured in a swirl of bright hues, somehow it felt more comforting than it was shocking or foreign.

it kinda reminded him of lando.

of course, he would naturally associate such fanciful things with the extravagant man. that flair wasn’t necessarily daunting. the vividness of the visuals around him seemed to mirror the falcon’s pilot in a way he could only just so understand.

without getting to know him further, of course, which was something han found himself innumerably interested in. 

on a whim han found one hand trailing down the velvety length of one particular cape, calloused fingers finding a sparking sensation at the softness that graced his slight-tanned skin.

the allure pulled him to tug the cape from it’s hanger, sweep it over his shoulders in one surprisingly elegant move and chuckle gently as he stared at himself in the long mirror.

he looked like an idiot.

(when didn’t he?)

it was a childlike jubilance that lightened the perpetual anxiety in his chest, the feeling that lingered like a flea on a bantha hide- and the moment he allotted a moment to forget about all the problems weighing in, it felt like he was a kid back on corellia again,  _running around with qi’ra- finding little bits of shiny trinkets in the gutters, putting together mechanical whirring devices that would do nothing more than spark and short out but reward them with a round of laughter_ , but then there was a sharp a flash of  _hurt_.

_she was gone, qi’ra_.

he winced, and the smile faded.

_soft murmurs under the dim light of proxima’s bunks, dashing past guards sharing stupid grins and toppling over when their legs ached to rest into a pile of protective hugs and sloppy kisses on the nose, cheeks, forehead-_

she was gone.

despite everything, she’d left him behind.

_not everyone has left you, han._

he blinked back to reality then, shaking his head and reaching to pull the unclasped cape from his shoulder, return to the harshness of the cold existence that was  _this_. being on the run, or whatever he was now. 

something stopped him, a flash of color behind him in the mirror and a rolling laugh that could only be one person, and han instantly reddened in the cheeks, freezing up in an embarrassed mess of clumsy hands and a single cape obscuring most of his form.

_lando- shit._

the other practically sauntered in to the already small room, regarding han as he awkwardly tried to shed the cape. there was a bright smile across lando’s expression, as if this amused him greatly.

_of course it did. damnit._

“you like ‘em, baby?”

 

 


	2. ' bad ideas, '

“I’m checking on Lando.”

“Bad idea, kid, he seemed pretty pissed.”

“Yeah, and pretty badly hurt…

Relax, Chewie- you stay here and help out the villagers.

Yeah, I’ll tell him that. Yes- that too.”

 

* * *

 

The Falcon practically groaned under his boots. Every step up the ramp was spent with increasing unease at the creaks and shudders she emitted. 

“I really did a number on you, huh,” Han let one hand linger on the frame of the bulkhead entrance, taking note of the way her faulty mechanics now whistled in the relentless Savareen wind. Every bit of panelling that hung off of her exterior hung on barely strands, threatening to fall off and leave her in less of one piece than she already way.

Without further ado he made his way further in to the Falcon, passing bits of ashy rubble in the hallways, dipping to the side to gaze down at the gunner’s position chamber. The ventral cannon had been knocked off in the fight escaping Kessel- another causality he and Beckett owed Lando for. Mostly Beckett, but they’d deal that out later.

Entering the main cabin, he wrapped his knuckles two times on the exposed wiring poking out of barely clinging walls. 

“Anyone home?”

No answer. He let his gaze flicker over the rubbled cabin. From the Dejarik table and it’s formerly pristine patterned cushions, to L3-37′s damaged frame- at which Han winced slightly- to the bunk, disheveled and a familiar shade of yellow. 

“Lando, buddy…?” Han took a careful step forward to the pilot, sat at the edge of his bunk, injured arm held to his chest as he stared vaguely off toward the chaos of his beloved ship. Almost disassociated from it all, and Han couldn't blame him in the slightest.

"I thought I said I never wanted to see you again." Suddenly he spoke, sharply but with his trademark sass.

“You kinda scared me, pal,” he brought his voice down softer, approaching him tentatively. He'd had his fair share of dealing with grief-trauma victims in Proxima's gang. The streets of Corellia were far from safe, and no child no matter how innocent was spared or mercied.

Lando finally looked his way, and his stare was critical, watching him, waiting for him to make a move.

“Can you let me take a look at that blaster wound?” Han asked pointedly after realizing that Lando wasn't going to address it.

“Can you stop being a pain in the ass, H _a_ n?"

He held in a sigh. Looked from the Falcon's battered pilot, then to the side briefly, and made up his mind. “It’s  _Han_ ,” he responded, kneeling to pull out some of the drawers beneath the bunk in search of a med kit, “but okay,”

Lando didn't seem in a mood to fight, waiting with a glare as Han set the med kit beside him, moving to undo the makeshift tourniquet and sling that he'd quite impressively on-the-fly made out of a likely expensive and admittedly cute as hell shirt. Not that he was complaining about seeing arrogant Lando in a roughed state.

~~It was kinda hot.~~

"Let me know if it hurts, okay buddy?" Han gave only so much as a warning before taking Lando's arm in his hands, and beginning to dab at the scored skin with some disinfectant. The pilot was surprisingly pliant in the sense that he didn't tense, didn't pull back, though winced as Han's careful touch pressed a little to hard here and there. 

Then came bacta patches, cool against Lando's overheated skin. Han'd had enough blaster wounds to know that the heat would soon dissipate, as soon as the bacta began to get to work to form stem cells into skin to bridge the torn skin left by the heat of the bolt. 

It came out of nowhere, and Han looked up instantly. "She was scared, when she died." Lando had said softly, gazing ahead with glossed eyes; a telltale sign of trauma. "She didn't know what was happening to her, and I just- I just hope she's happy now, with the Falcon."

Han hesitated, one hand settling over the roll of bandages, the other still gently cupping Lando's forearm. "She's gotta be, right? She loved this ship s'much as you." He realized he wasn't the most comforting presence, but he was here, and he'd do what he could. "Chewie wanted me to say he was sorry, about what happened." He took a short breath. "Beckett, he uh-"

"What are you going to do after this? You and Beckett and Chewie." 

Han blinked.

"I figured we'd go our separate ways. Dunno about Beckett." _He doesn't have much left, does he?_

"Well Han, people are predictable. Beckett is no exception." 

Han let his gaze lower back to the bandages, and slowly he started to wrap them around Lando's arm. 

_"Neither was Elthree."_

Once more his hands faltered, and it took a moment to tuck the end of the bandage away, look back up and shift to sit beside him, returning his now-fixed-up arm. 

Lando's head hung lower than usual. Every spark in his demeanor had flickered out, any arrogant composure he withheld was weaker; was given in.

Without thinking Han nudged Lando gently at his uninjured shoulder, giving a quirk of a smile. "Think positive, baby, soon as that Coaxium's ready, you'll be rich and halfway across the galaxy."

Lando side-eyed him, narrowing his eyes. "Are you always this stupidly optimistic?"

"Not always." Han could hear an edge of playfulness creeping up in the other's tone, and he could tell he was winning. "Just when I need to be."

And then he was facing him and he couldn't help but feel a flush of protectiveness. _Wasn't this at least some of his doing?_

But Lando would be dead without him, even if he'd fucked up his ship beyond being perfect ever again. 

 

And he leaned forward, and he placed a kiss, soft and chaste, on Lando's forehead.

Leaving the Falcon's pilot in a stunned silence, Han stood up, an idiotic grin gracing his expression. 

"Feel better now, baby?" 


End file.
